


Dreams

by temporal-infidelity (Alvitr)



Category: Death Note
Genre: Amnesiac!Light, Handcuffs, L listens to 70s music without comment, M/M, Sleeping arrangements, Yotsuba Arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 06:22:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6227347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alvitr/pseuds/temporal-infidelity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Light gets used to sharing a bedroom with L.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first Death Note fanfic I've written since 2009.

On the first night they spent handcuffed together, L and Light retired to bed around midnight. Light was somewhat surprised. He had heard a bit of L’s sleeping patterns from the others; they spoke of how the detective rarely seemed to sleep, except for short catnaps that he often indulged in while still sitting at his desk. Light had expected to spend the foreseeable future on a minimum of sleep, and had begun to plan accordingly, looking for means by which he might get some rest when he needed it without disturbing L. He needed to prove his innocence, and if he needed to be chained to L to do it, then so be it -- but he’d never prove anything if he didn’t get at least four or five hours of sleep at night. He’d adapt as best he could to L’s schedule, and sleep whenever he could.

Despite Light’s plans, at the stroke of the witching hour, an alarm went off on L’s main computer. He looked at it for a moment, a serious expression on his face. Then he methodically saved and closed all of the work he had open. “I think it’s time for us to go to bed, Light,” he said, turning his computers off one at a time, ignoring the stares of disbelief from the rest of the investigation team.

Light, too, stared at him in shock. “I’m not that tired, Ryuuzaki. I can work more. We have a lot to do.”

“No,” L said, rising from his chair. “Light needs rest. Let’s go.”

He followed L out of the room, a little speechless. In truth, he was exhausted. He had been imprisoned, scarcely able to move, for months, and then he had stared death down the barrel of a gun, and survived. But he had not wanted anyone to see that. In a situation such as this, appearances were important.

They entered a room which L opened with a complicated passcode, his fingers flying over the keys too quickly for Light to trace. Inside was a fairly conventional, if somewhat sterile, bedroom with two double beds on either side of the entrance to a bathroom. Light could see it had been carefully arranged in order to allow them to sleep in separate beds and also use the facilities while still remaining chained. L, it seemed, had thought of everything. 

“Ah … which bed would you like to sleep in, Light?” L asked, scratching his head, and Light was weirdly reminded of summers at tennis camp, sharing rooms with other boys, and all the little negotiations contained therein. 

“It doesn’t matter to me,” Light said, and sat down on the nearest bed. He attempted to suppress a yawn and failed. L crossed the room to a dresser. He opened a top drawer and removed a sleek black mp3 player and a pair of wireless earbuds. Light felt rather confused, and wondered if they were meant for him, but L carried them over to the opposite bed and deposited them there wordlessly.

They went about the business of preparing for bed without much discussion. Light found that someone -- Watari, he supposed -- had furnished him with brand new clothing, all in the correct size and in his usual style. Light supposed he wouldn’t be allowed to have anything from home. After all, if he were Kira, there could be something hidden away inside the cuff of a shirt or the sole of a shoe that he could use to kill. That’s what he would assume, anyway, if he were L. 

Within twenty minutes they were both ready for bed. Light slipped between the sheets, and for a moment strategized about which ways he could most easily move without disturbing the handcuffs much; it would take some getting used to, he supposed. He snuck a glance over at L. The other man was dressed in his usual long-sleeved white shirt and a pair of black boxers. Light strangely didn’t feel uncomfortable at the sight. Perhaps he had already become desensitized to L’s shockingly bare feet; his wiry bare legs seemed like a natural extension of them. L was perched on the edge of his bed in his customary pose, one spidery finger sliding over the screen of the mp3 player. He slipped the earbuds into his ears and looked up to meet Light’s gaze. “Good night, Light,” he said simply, and then sort of flopped over into a fetal position, knees tucked up against his chest.

“Good night, Ryuuzaki,” Light said, and reached over and turned the light off. He lay down, and attempted to get to sleep.

 

* * *

 

That night, and the nights that followed, Light was never quite sure if L ever actually slept. As he himself tried to drift off, L was perfectly silent, making no other sound but steady, even breathing. But some preternatural sense told Light that the other man was not asleep. He was simply aware of the presence of another conscious human being in the room. When he woke in the morning, L was also awake, usually sitting up in bed and perusing a laptop that he kept by his bed, quietly sucking on a hard candy from a collection that he had stashed away in the nightstand.

Despite the awkwardness of the situation, Light usually slept the whole night through, drained from the busy and mentally taxing days. He still felt strangely tired in the morning, though, as though he had been unable to sleep deeply. He had a vague impression of troubling dreams, but he could never remember them. It was a shame that his sleep seemed to be so unfulfilling, because in every sense, L was as considerate a roommate as one might ask for, (considering the fact that he suspected Light of a being a mass murderer). He was quiet, unobtrusive, and undemanding -- in short, the exact opposite of how he behaved during the day, when he constantly challenged, accused, and out-thought Light on a regular basis.

It was several weeks into this arrangement that one night Light woke suddenly. It was pitch black at first, and Light was confused for a moment where he was. He had been dreaming -- dreaming of what? Names. Endless columns of names, in many languages, and they seemed to loom over him like untidy skyscrapers, which he felt certain might one day collapse and bury him.

Gradually he came back to himself and realized where he was. It was eerily silent in the room. For a second he was convinced that L was gone; that he had unchained himself from Light and gone back to work in another room. Perhaps that was what he did every night while Light slept, returning just before he woke. But then Light picked up the very soft sound of deep, gentle breathing, far quieter than it normally was when they first went to bed each night. 

He lay there for a moment, listening, before realizing that he had to urinate. He didn’t want to get up; he wasn’t sure if he could do so soundlessly, especially with the handcuffs, without waking L. But he couldn’t ignore it. Taking a steadying breath, he very carefully pulled back the sheets and slid his legs out from under them. WIth one hand he grabbed the chain hanging from his wrist and held it still as he rose from the bed in an effort to minimize the clinking sound. He paused for a moment, getting his bearings, and listening for any change in L’s breathing, but it was still even and undisturbed. He opened the door to the bathroom, entered carefully, and then closed it with equal care, letting the chain lie flat under the door, where there was just enough space for it. Only then did he turn on the light, blinking for a moment in the harsh brightness, and went about his business. 

When he emerged a moment later, he was surprised to see it was much lighter out than it had been. The sun was beginning to rise; it must be closer to morning than he had expected. There was just enough light in the room now to illuminate L’s huddled form. Light stood and looked at him, strangely curious to see the detective in such a vulnerable state. He was lying on his back, his legs still pulled up but fallen to the side. In the faint light, L’s face was a study of contrasts, all dark shadows and pale skin, his eyes like two thumbprint bruises against the whiteness of his flesh. He was so still and peaceful that Light thought he looked almost dead. 

It was then that he noticed the earbuds. One had popped out of an ear and was lying against L’s chest, which rose and fell in small increments. Light wondered what it was that he listened to every night. Perhaps it was more work, documents brought to life through a text to speech program. Maybe it was simply white noise. 

As though he were in a trance, Light found one hand reaching out towards the earbud that rested on L’s chest. He carefully picked it up and brought it to his own ear. 

> _ \-- Like a heartbeat drives you mad _
> 
> _ in the stillness of remembering what you had _
> 
> _ and what you lost and what you had and what you lost. _
> 
> _ Thunder only happens when it’s raining -- _

Light jerked the earbud out of his ear and stared at it in disbelief.  _ What?! _

A slight movement caught his eye. He looked down and saw that L’s eyes had opened, just a crack, a sleepy expression on his face. Light’s own face burned with embarrassment.

“S-s-sorry, Ryuuzaki --” he began, dropping the earbud in shock.

L interrupted him with a enormous yawn. He stretched suddenly, like a lanky cat; Light thought he could hear the bones in his spine cracking. He sat up, pulling the remaining earbud from his ear, and scratched his head. “Fleetwood Mac,” he said, his voice husky with sleep. “From their 1977 album  _ Rumours _ .”

“Fascinating,” Light said, feeling a little annoyed, but not sure why.

L leaned over and picked up the fallen earbud. He deposited it on the nightstand with the other one, and then turned off the mp3 player. “Good morning, Light.”

* * *

 

 

And with that, they went about their day as normal, making a number of significant leaps in the case. When they returned to bed that night, Light watched L as he got ready. When he picked up the earbuds, Light said, “So … Fleetwood Mac, huh?”

L looked over at him, his dark eyes impenetrable. “Yes. Sometimes.”

“I didn’t realize you listened to music.” 

“It helps me to sleep.” One thumb came up and rested against L’s lower lip. He added, looking thoughtful, “When I must sleep.”

“We don’t have to do this,” Light said. “If I get tired, I can nap somewhere in the investigation room while you work.”

“No,” L said. “You need to be at your best. And I suppose it isn’t bad for me, either.”

Light had nothing to say to that. He had to admit he had no idea how L even functioned with the lifestyle he lived. 

They continued getting ready for bed in silence. Light flipped the light switch and plunged the room into darkness. He lay in bed, the familiar sound of L’s breathing a vaguely comforting constant. But he found that tonight he couldn’t drift off. After lying there sleeplessly for a moment, he sat up.

“Is everything all right, Light?” L asked.

Light stood up and took the two steps that separated his bed from L’s. L looked up at him, or at least Light thought he was looking up at him; he could almost feel L’s heavy gaze in the darkness. “Can I listen?” he asked.

L was silent for a moment. Then Light heard the chime of the handcuff’s chains as the dark blur of L’s hand reached up to the equally dark blur of his head. A second later, Light felt a hand brush against his and press the earbud into it. He pressed it to his ear. 

> _ Now here you go again, you say _
> 
> _ you want your freedom. _
> 
> _ Well who am I to keep you down? _

The bed creaked and Light realized that L was shuffling over, making space for him. He hesitated for a moment, but only a moment. Then he joined him. They lay next to each other, not saying anything, only listening to the music.

> _ Now here I go again, I see the crystal visions _
> 
> _ I keep my visions to myself, it’s only me _
> 
> _ who wants to wrap around your dream. _
> 
> _ Have you any dreams you’d like to sell? _
> 
> _ Dreams of loneliness, _
> 
> _ like a heartbeat drives you mad … _

Light turned his head. His eyes had adjusted better to the dark, and he could just make out L’s face. His eyes were closed, but he was smiling, a tiny smile, as though he was thinking of a secret, or having a good dream. As the song ended, and then looped back to the beginning to start again, Light hoped that tonight anything he dreamed might also be good.

**Author's Note:**

> [Dreams](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mrZRURcb1cM) by Fleetwood Mac.


End file.
